Private Lives

Chapter 22

The kids wrap themselves around Rosie and Seb, the five of them in a shaking huddle, before they’re moved away by firefighters in bulky coats and gloves, the visors down on their yellow helmets. It’s their show now.

Rosie is so grateful for Greer’s weight in her arms, her daughter’s legs squeezing her waist. Heath and Sylvie either side of Seb, his arms over their shoulders. They form a protective semicircle around Eva who stands, solemn but strong on her own, turned to face everything she’s losing. The police move them back, further away. There’s nothing for them to do now but watch this strangely intimate moment. They stand, watching tiny deaths play out in front of them as the physical pieces of Eva’s life, Seb’s childhood, Rosie’s kids’ childhoods lift and disappear into the night sky. Goodbye, family photo albums. Goodbye, Eva’s childhood diaries. Goodbye, map with Benjamin’s phone number.

Even though there are so many people, firefighters with their hoses and police with their radios, it feels like it’s just the six of them standing there, watching. The children are quiet, reverent. Greer strokes Rosie’s cheek. The children seem to understand that what is happening here is terrible but also sacred and Rosie knows in the pit of her that it’s right for the children to be here. To witness what mustn’t be avoided, to see what can never be properly described.

Next to her, Rosie feels Seb and she presses herself against the side of him. There is no one else, no one else she could stand next to and witness all this destruction with. She feels like she too is on fire as so much between them floats up, up, away into the night sky. He came for her. That’s all that matters. It’s no longer about who is right and who is wrong, it’s no longer about all the things they should have done earlier and the things they should not have done at all.

A police officer approaches Eva. ‘Mrs Kent? Are you Mrs Eva Kent?’

Suddenly the protective casing around their little group is broken and now there’s someone else, an ambulance worker in dark-green scrubs next to Rosie asking, ‘Hi, Mrs Kent, I’m Katerina. Can I take a look at that hand for you?’

Rosie feels Greer’s legs around her soften like she’s about to release, but Rosie holds her little one tighter, wrapping Greer’s legs around her waist again, and says to the woman, ‘No, no, thank you, I’m fine.’

Katerina asks again to look at Rosie’s hand and she reluctantly passes Greer to Seb.

Seb puts his hand behind Rosie’s head and for just a moment they stand, foreheads touching, his tears so close to her own. Rosie pulls away first as Seb whispers, ‘I’m going to take the kids home and then I’m going to come back for you, Ro.’

Rosie shakes her head. ‘No. You stay with them, Seb. They need you more than I do. Stay with them.’

Seb agrees with a brief incline of his head before he glances towards Eva, who now has two police officers in front of her, taking notes, and Rosie knows without having to be told what he’s asking.

‘Of course. I won’t leave her on her own.’

Seb swallows and nods again before the four of them start walking slowly away. Rosie watches them and for the first time she notices how many people have gathered now. Neighbours, acquaintances, some strangers in Halloween costumes, some in dressing gowns and slippers, all turned towards the bonfire made from her mother-in-law’s life. Some of them notice Rosie looking at them, and they nudge their neighbours so they too can turn to stare at Rosie. As Katerina leads her towards the open rear doors of the ambulance, Rosie looks back at all those faces and where she would once have felt shame grip, wringing her stomach like a filthy dishrag, she feels a wonderful lifting gentleness because none of them understand anything. None of them really know anything at all.

Inside the ambulance it’s jarringly bright but Katerina’s eyes are kind, the hand guiding Rosie soft. Rosie sits where she’s told to sit and answers all the questions she’s asked. No, she doesn’t feel dizzy. In fact, she feels clearer than she’s felt for weeks. Any nausea? She shakes her head. Her pulse is raised but Katerina lifts an eyebrow and says, ‘Under the circumstances, I think we can let that go.’

Katerina gently turns Rosie’s palm so it’s facing up and, placing glasses on her nose, she peers down. Rosie winces and Katerina says, ‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ before asking, ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

Rosie’s about to tell her simply that she burnt her hand but as she starts to speak, she realizes that’s not right. That’s not right at all. Rosie must say the words, not just for Katerina, but also for herself. She must start trying to understand why she’s sitting here with this kind, gentle woman tending to her while outside the fire roars.

‘I’d gone back to Eva’s a little before the kids. They were getting ratty, you know, hungry, and I just needed a moment.’

Katerina looks up at Rosie, nods. Rosie guesses she’s a mother too.

‘I’d just got into the kitchen, turned the oven on, when I heard the letterbox bang. Then I fell to the floor. I thought I was being shot at but then another one came and flew straight through into the kitchen, landing so close to me. I don’t know, I just reached out my hand like I didn’t believe it; I thought it was fake. That’s when I got burnt. I ran outside after that, just as the whole place started going crazy. The fire brigade arrived soon after.’ Rosie falls into silence.

The rest of the story is only for her and Seb.

‘We drove past your husband on our way here.’ Rosie keeps her eyes on her hand, unsure where this is going.

‘He was running like a madman.’

Rosie feels Katerina’s eyes flicker, land on her face.

‘You can probably imagine, I see all sorts in this job, but I’ve never seen a man run like that.’ She chuckles quietly, gently, before finishing her bandaging and telling Rosie that she should go to A&E tomorrow, but tonight she’s free to go.

When she steps outside the air is smokier now.

Eva is standing alone once again. She stares at the fire, her face solemn, like she’s determined to say goodbye to it all. Rosie moves to stand next to her, slides her undamaged hand into Eva’s. She feels it all in her mother-in-law, the electric pulse of her shock, the blank newness of a future none of them could ever have predicted. Eva doesn’t cry but she does sometimes hum. It sounds old and achingly sad, but Rosie hears it as a kind of hymn to change. It brings Rosie back to Benjamin’s hospice bed where Eva stayed by his side for those final days and nights, humming, as he slowly, slowly went on his way.

Rosie has no idea how long they stay like that but by the time Seb comes back, it’s like the fire has settled into the main course. All the soft things are gone, the fire grinding its jaws now against the bones of Eva’s old furniture, the wooden window frames and beams. Eva’s humming again so Rosie and Seb move away slightly to talk.

‘They’re asleep,’ Seb tells her. ‘They’re exhausted, worried about you and Granny, but otherwise I think they’re OK.’

‘Who’s with them?’

Seb’s eyes widen a little. ‘Eddy came over.’

‘Eddy?’ Rosie’s voice lifts with surprise.

‘Yeah, he’d been here and saw me leaving with the kids. I suppose he figured out that was a way he could help.’ Seb shrugs his shoulders, breathes out, coughs a bit at the smoke before he says gently, ‘Listen, Ro. The police came over. They’re waiting, in the car over there. They want to ask both of us some questions about who could have done this.’

Rosie feels blank for a moment. She’d been so consumed by everything that happened, she hadn’t given any thought to how they got here in the first place. She has no idea what she’d say to them, but she nods at Seb. ‘OK.’

It’s after midnight when Seb and Rosie walk the short distance home.

It feels strange being home. Rosie feels guilty – with Eva by her side, because look, here’s their kitchen table, their sofa, their shoes all intact. All still here. Rosie runs upstairs to see the kids. They’re as Seb described, all asleep together, a pile of puppies in Rosie and Seb’s bed. Sound asleep. She kisses them, her heart swelling with gratitude for their sweet breath, for the life in them, before going back downstairs.

Eva is sitting in the kitchen, Eddy sheepish and uncomfortable opposite, a pot of tea in the middle. If it wasn’t for the police officers also sitting at the table and the grim line of Eva’s mouth in her ash-stained face, they could just be having a late-night chat.

Eddy stands as soon as he sees Rosie. His eyes are red; he’s been crying. He hugs Rosie tightly, wrapping his arms fully around her, and says, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Ro.’

His apologies confuse Rosie because what is he apologizing for? This fire that wasn’t his fault or all the stuff before that was?

She mutters, ‘Thank you for being here, Ed. Thanks for …’

He waves her gratitude away and once they’ve promised to let him know if there’s anything else that he can do, Eddy hugs them both one last time and leaves.

Now it’s just the five of them. The woman introduces herself again, her name – Sarah Wilcox – coming after a series of letters that Rosie immediately forgets, and her colleague, Nathan, who is quiet with dark circles under his eyes.

Once introductions are over, Sarah Wilcox tells them it’s important they act quickly, because acting quickly improves the odds that they’ll actually find the person or people responsible.

Rosie and Seb nod and take it in turns to recount their version of what happened. The trick-or-treating, the forgotten crumble, the first blood-freezing shriek. Sarah Wilcox leaves the note-taking to Nathan and keeps her eyes fixed steadily on Rosie and Seb.

When they run out of things to say they look at each other, and Seb cups his palm over Rosie’s hand where it rests on the kitchen table. Sarah Wilcox’s eyes flash.

Her tone becomes a little cooler. ‘We’re aware you’ve been going through a … complicated time, Mr Kent, but we need to know: is there anyone who immediately comes to mind who might have reason to want to harm you or your mum?’

Seb looks briefly at Eva, who looks tiny now she’s away from the fire. She moves her head in an almost imperceptible nod to show Seb she’s OK. She can hear what he needs to say.

‘I’d been getting threats. Death threats. Emails saying some ugly things. And there were people – parents, mostly – who were angry. Really angry. Some of the kids at school, I know, had really lost faith in me, but I don’t think, I honestly don’t think it would have been any of them …’

Rosie stares, horrified, at Seb.

Death threats?

‘OK. OK,’ Sarah Wilcox says, like this is all as she expected. ‘We’ll go to your office to have a look into all of that tomorrow, but I think that’s all for now. Thanks for your help and, again, I really am so sorry.’

Her eyes flicker again towards Seb and Rosie holding hands before she looks up one last time, at Rosie. Sarah Wilcox’s sharp face is full of questions and suddenly she looks more woman than police officer. Like she can’t believe after everything Rosie is still here, because if her husband had done what Seb has, there’s no way she’d stick around. No way she’d be made a public fool. Rosie feels all of this but still she doesn’t move her hand.

‘OK, then. Well. Thanks for your time. Hope you manage to get some rest. We’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

Rosie shakes their hands and wonders, briefly, if this is just another work night for them. Another family drama. For Sarah, Rosie and her family aren’t so special, not really. Tomorrow trouble will come for someone else in flashing lights and impossible conversation, and so it goes on. How vulnerable they all are. What an extraordinary act of faith it is to keep going, keep living, when at some point, odds are, those blue emergency lights will wail and flash for you or, worse, for someone you love.

Once the police have gone, it’s Seb who starts crying first.

He presses his fingers to his temples.

‘I promised Dad,’ he says to the empty space on the floor in front of him. ‘I promised Dad I’d look after you, Mum …’

Rosie holds his hand tighter as his heart breaks. And even though she looks bone-weary, her body painful, Eva stands and says, her voice gentle but clear, ‘How many times have I told you, min skat, promises are completely absurd.’ But then she moves towards him, to cradle his head in her arms, and bends to bring her mouth to his ear as she starts whispering in Danish. Rosie can’t understand, but that doesn’t matter because the sound of a mother comforting her child is the same in every language. When she’s finished, still with one hand around the back of Seb’s head, she reaches for Rosie with the other.

They stay like that for a while and Rosie feels a strange lightness, a kind of lifting. Because Eva is right. Promises are absurd. They cannot stay the same as everything else changes. They too, in turn, must become dust and blow away. Making them free to choose, if they wish, to try again.

Both Rosie and Seb help Eva upstairs and into Sylvie’s room. They’re all surprised to see the spare little bed made up already.

‘Eddy?’ they whisper to each other, doubtful because it was such a thoughtful thing. Eddy?

They hold each other again before Seb and Rosie quietly close the door behind them. As they gather sheets and a quilt to make up the sofa downstairs they hear Eva start to sob, and it’s the saddest, strongest sound Rosie has ever heard.

They use sofa cushions to make up a kind of bed on the sitting room floor. Seb looks a bit unsure as Rosie starts to get in.

‘You want me to go in Heath’s room, Ro?’

Rosie shakes her head. ‘No, I want you here, next to me.’

They’re too exhausted to say anything else to each other tonight. That will come. Tonight has been about everything they’ve lost, and tomorrow they can talk about what they might be able to save, but right now all she wants is to know that he is there, breathing, warm and alive next to her.